


Word of Honor

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: All or Nothing [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not good to say something if you don't mean to follow through on it. But then, that's not a problem for Dino Cavallone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word of Honor

**Author's Note:**

> Adult for smut (and how!). This is a side-story for All or Nothing, which gives context for this fic but probably isn't required reading for this one, which is mostly about Dino + Bianchi + Dancing = Smut. Mostly, anyway. 6848 words.

"Maybe we dropped Hayato on his head when he was a baby," Bianchi mused as she watched her brother singlehandedly sabotage his chances with Yamamoto Takeshi. "Repeatedly." It was distinctly possible, since she privately felt that no one should have entrusted her parents with goldfish, let along children. Hayato's mom, perhaps, but it wasn't like the woman had lived long enough to make a difference. And there was also the demonstrable fact that she'd left Hayato with their father, so then again, maybe not.

"Mm," Dino said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. That just went to show that he was a smart guy; he'd figured out that it was better not to weigh in too critically on matters pertaining to Hayato around her, lest she take offense on her brother's behalf. (That was what being siblings meant: she and Hayato would give each other merry hell all day long, but just let anyone else try to give one of them shit, and they'd turn around and tear strips off the bastard in two-part harmony. Because they were real functional like that, her and Hayato. Yeah.) "He probably has his reasons."

Bianchi watched Hayato disappear out back with the girl he'd just picked up and snorted. "What he's _got_ is an overdeveloped sense of duty. The little idiot." So much for hoping that the move Yamamoto had finally made would pay off.

"Maybe," Dino said. "That's not a bad thing for Tsuna's right hand to have."

"I wonder," Bianchi said, as Yamamoto headed for Tsuna, looking around like he was wondering where the hell Hayato had got to. Poor kid. She was going to have to apologize later. She'd thought for sure that Hayato's jealousy would get the better of his paranoia. But there wasn't anything she could do about it now, short of storming out back and giving Hayato a brisk slap upside the head, and given what he was probably getting up to right about now? There were limits to what she was willing to do for the sake of sisterly duty, and besides. She'd come out tonight with a mission. "So anyway."

Dino smiled as she dragged her attention away from the clusterfuck of her brother's bad decisions and turned it back to him. "Yeah?"

"You were saying something," Bianchi told him; the beat of the music changed, and so did the steady pressure of his hand at her back, drawing them into a new rhythm.

"So I was." Dino edged her a little closer. "What was I saying?"

"Mm, let me think." She resettled her arms around his shoulders and ran a thumbnail along the nape of his neck; he shuddered as she dragged it along the damp skin there and she grinned. "Was something about my outfit, wasn't it?"

"Right, right, your _outfit_. Now I remember." Dino slipped a hand lower, letting it settle in the curve of her hip, right where the cropped hem of her top just missed hitting the waist of her skirt. "This outfit. It's inspiring. Very inspiring."

That had been the point of it, to be sure. Not that it was generally all that difficult to inspire boys; the real trick was in keeping them from getting too creative. "Yeah?"

"This skirt." Dino rubbed his thumb back and forth against her waist, just under the hem of her top. "You should wear this skirt more often. You have the most _fantastic_ legs."

"Mm, they are rather nice, aren't they?" Of course, it wasn't the skirt that achieved that effect so much as it was the heels—the skirt was for showing the effect off. But that was a nicety; the important part was that he'd noticed.

"Oh, yeah." Dino's voice was positively reverent. "You could stop traffic in the street just by walking by."

"Hm, think so? I'll have to try that sometime." Bianchi tossed the hair back from her eyes, not coincidentally managing to arch her back at the same time so that her breasts pressed against him. He swallowed hard and she smiled. Maybe it was too easy, but oh, it was fun.

"Jesus." Dino's voice was just a bit hoarse. "Jesus, woman."

Bianchi raised her eyebrows. "What? Something on your mind, Cavallone?" She was quite sure that there was at least one thing pressing on his mind at the moment; boys were so delightfully straightforward about showing when they were interested. Perhaps it was to make up for how dense they could be about noticing when someone was interested in them... not that Dino'd ever exhibited that particular failing, even if they hadn't gotten around to doing anything about it till now.

"There might be something," he admitted, after a moment.

Bianchi slid a hand along his shoulder and down the pleasing breadth of his chest, letting it linger. "Do tell."

"A gentleman wouldn't say those kinds of things to a lady," he tried as she edged her fingertips between the buttons of his shirt.

Oh, now that sounded promising. Seemed like he was getting with the program properly. Bianchi played her fingertips against his skin and let a smile bloom across her lips. "Good thing there aren't any ladies around, isn't it?" And, just to make the point clear, she followed that up with a little shimmy of her hips that flowed into the way they were moving together and pressed up against the hardness of his cock.

"God," he breathed, and flattened his hand against her back, pressing her body against his as he buried his face against the curve of her neck, lips brushing against her ears, private and intimate. "Just now I'm thinking about how fantastic your legs would look wrapped around my waist, and I can't decide whether I just want to push your skirt up and take you like that, or strip you naked and taste every inch of your skin first."

"Mm." Bianchi wove her fingers into the silky, damp mess of his hair. "Who says you have to choose?" If she were any judge, the man had enough gumption in him for at least two rounds.

That was an interesting sound, she decided, when he made a strangled sort of moaning sound against her ear. "Mm, you like that idea?"

"When the kids go home..." he began, voice hoarse, and trailed off.

Bianchi smiled, playing with his hair. "What about it?"

"When they go home, _I'm_ going home, and I want you to come with me." He got his fingers under the edge of her top and stroked the small of her back. "You will, won't you?"

Some men wouldn't have asked, would have just assumed, given the set of signals she'd been waving around. Bianchi couldn't help being gratified that he'd asked anyway, all things considered. "Of course I'm going home with you, you ridiculous man." She turned her face and nipped the side of his throat, just to make sure she had his attention. "I didn't plan on doing anything else."

"Lucky me," Dino said. Bianchi just laughed, because it was good that he knew.

There wasn't too much to say after that, not exactly, or at least not by way of words. There was plenty a person could do with her hands, though, and Dino Cavallone was a very satisfying partner for dancing with. Bianchi rather thought that in another life, he would have made a decent hitman, which was one of the better compliments she knew. He was all solid muscles, but still trim and light enough on his feet, like any good fighter had to be, to make dancing fun. He had good hands, too; Bianchi liked the way they felt, settled low on her hips or sliding up her spine, warm through the silky drape of her top.

She was contemplating what his hands were going to feel like on her bare skin when her brother came back in, quite pointedly disheveled, and kissed the girl he'd gone out with in full view of the room. Bianchi swore, unreasonably angry with him, as the two of them parted and rejoined their respective parties. "That little idiot!" She wanted to throttle her brother; she settled for digging her fingers into Dino's back instead. "Who the fuck does he think he's fooling?"

"Most of the room, I'd imagine." Dino shrugged when she glared at him. "What? You know it's true." He ran his eyes around the room, sizing it up. "Worked, I think."

"That's not the point." The point was standing next to Tsuna, looking stunned, while her brother sat a few stools down, looking like he hated himself. God _damn_ , but her family was good at fucking itself over.

"Wasn't it?" The quizzical look Dino gave her could have been patronizing, had he not sounded like he was genuinely curious what she'd meant.

"What's the point of keeping up appearances if you hate yourself for doing it and make everyone else around you miserable at the same time?" Christ, she'd have thought that Hayato would have learned from their father's example, but apparently not. "Might as well take what you want instead, and at least be honest about it." Someone was still going to get hurt—that part was unavoidable, in her experience—but at least there was a chance of being happy somewhere along the way.

Dino seemed to be mulling that over. Bianchi let him, keeping an eye on the kids—who were, yeah, getting themselves together to head out under Reborn and Shamal's auspices. Reborn caught her eye, once, and smirked at her under the dip of his hat. Well, she'd told him not to expect her back, so it wasn't like she hadn't warned him. Wasn't like she needed to go back, considering.

Dino was still thinking, looking like he was a thousand kilometers away, even after the kids had gone out. Bianchi made a mental note to collar her brother next chance she got and shake some sense into his fool head, waited a bit for Dino to remember that he'd made plans, and finally decided that a pointed reminder was in order. "So," she said, leaning in and purring it against his ear, "are you about ready to get out of here?" For good measure, she closed her mouth on his earlobe and stroked her tongue against it, because, in her experience, there was nothing like a tangible promise of things to come to motivate a man.

The result was gratifying; Cavallone gave a little full-body shudder as his attention jerked back to her from wherever it had gone. "Now that you mention it..." His smile was slow and full of promises. "I think I am."

"Mm, splendid." Bianchi graciously allowed him to guide them off the dance floor, since sometimes it was fun to let the boys show off their good manners, and Dino had been raised with _very_ good manners. "You're staying in town, aren't you?" she asked, while his people saw to the business of calling the car around.

"Right here downtown." His smile was rueful. "We could probably walk."

"Eh, better save your energy for something more interesting," Bianchi advised him, which made up for the fact that there were some protocols one could not escape when the Cizeta had developed a taste for taking potshots at the head of the Cavallone whenever they saw a chance.

Dino arched an eyebrow at her. "Am I going to need that much energy?" he asked, drawing her against him and pitching his voice lower, just for her ears.

Bianchi slanted a glance at him from beneath her eyelashes. "You think you can keep up with me without it?"

He responded to the challenge about like she'd thought he would; his eyes went darker, hotter. "I think I could wear you out, if I put my mind to it."

"I guess you could _try_ ," Bianchi said, lightly enough, and smiled when his eyes sparked. There, now, _that_ was what she was looking for. "I think you'll be surprised, though."

"We'll just see who's surprised," he said as the long dark car pulled around. Bianchi laughed—there was nothing like a healthy sense of competition to spice an evening up—and let herself be handed into the car. The privacy screen between the driver and the back seat was already up; clearly Dino didn't employ stupid people. That was just fine by her; she arranged herself in her seat, fully conscious that her skirt was riding up and showing off even more of her legs, and that there was just enough ambient light to make that clear as Dino slid into his seat. She smiled when he stopped to stare, even after his people had shut the door on them and the interior of the car went dim. "You like what you see?"

"You know I do," he breathed. The leather of the seat creaked as he slid across the seat. "Bianchi..."

She almost expected him to put a hand on her knee or higher, but as the car purred into gear, he cupped her chin in his fingers instead. That was fine by her; Bianchi opened her mouth to his, giving back as good as she got. As he twined their tongues together, Bianchi sank her fingers into his hair, pulling him against her and tasting his mouth. She made an approving sound when he set a hand on her knee after all; he ran it up the inside of her thigh, under her skirt, but didn't go straight for the goal. He stroked his fingers along the inside of her thigh instead, tracing patterns against the skin there, though he was close enough that she could feel his knuckles brushing against the edge of her panties.

Bianchi growled at him, moderately annoyed by that show of restraint or teasing or whatever it was, and closed her teeth on his lower lip, not _quite_ hard enough to draw blood. Dino growled back and traced his thumbnail up the inside of her thigh, stopping just short of where she really wanted to feel him. Bianchi growled again. "Cavallone—" she started as he ran his lips along her jaw.

"Believe me, once I get started, you're not going to want me to stop," he said against her throat, lips brushing her skin with every word. "It's a _short_ drive to my hotel."

Perhaps there was some merit to that point, though she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing too quickly. "Promises," she said, and tightened her fingers in his hair as he ran his tongue over the pulse at the hollow of her throat.

"If you want," he agreed, closing his mouth on the point of her collarbone and sucking—well, it wasn't like she needed to care about marks, was it?

Besides, she could feel the car slowing, making a turn as Dino mouthed her throat, so he wasn't going to have time to raise a significant mark. She drew him up and claimed another kiss from him as the car glided to a stop, then pushed him away and made sure she was in order by the time the valets had sprung forward to get the doors for them. "I think I do want," she said, composedly, as she linked her arm with his and his people saw them inside.

Dino glanced at her; under the lights from the hotel's chandeliers, she could see that his lips were red from where they'd been kissing. "I might be able to arrange that."

"Fabulous," Bianchi said, and made herself be patient for the elevator ride upstairs with his carefully poker-faced bodyguards. They were consummate professionals; if it made them twitchy to know that their boss was in the middle of embarking on a night alone with a known hitman, they didn't show it. But then, it wasn't always the _known_ hitmen one had to worry about. In any case, Bianchi had to admire their restraint—they didn't even twitch—when Dino dismissed them outside his door and ushered her inside.

She didn't get much chance to look around; the moment he'd thrown the locks, Dino turned and reached for her again, curtailing her survey of the front room's anonymous furniture and softly-glowing lamps. Bianchi laughed and let him sweep her close; she twined her arms around his shoulders and opened her mouth to his again, ready to take up where they'd left off. She made a sound, interrogative, when he kept going, pressing against her till her back met a wall. "I know you have a perfectly good bed in here somewhere," she said, leaning her head against the wall as he kissed his way down her throat.

"But you're right here." He skimmed his hands down her sides, purposeful, and kept going, smoothing them over her hips and down her thighs till he hit bare skin. Bianchi laughed again when he hooked his hands under the hem of her skirt, hiking it up over her hips, started to say something about his impatience, and gasped instead when he dropped a hand between her thighs to run his fingers over her panties. "I did promise," he added, rubbing them back and forth, slowly.

Bianchi caught his shoulders, gripping them to hold herself steady as the friction of damp cloth rubbing against her made her groan. "I like a man who knows how to keep his word," she told him, planting her feet wider and rocking her hips against the pressure of his fingers, pleasure already making her breath come short in her throat.

"I think you really wanted this," he said against the side of her throat as he nudged his fingers under the elastic of her panties, sliding them against her, feeling how slick she already was.

"You don't have to sound so surprised about it." Bianchi swore then, breathless, as he slid his fingers between the folds of her, so _close_... "Damn it, Cavallone!" She arched against him, digging her nails into his shoulders as he explored the shape of her, and groaned when he finally stopped playing games and pushed his fingers into her. That was what she'd been wanting, at least part of it, and she gave herself up to it, rocking against the short, hard stroke of his fingers as he fucked her on them till pleasure wrung down on her.

Dino was watching her when she sagged against the wall, panting, after it had let her go again. His eyes had gone dark, darker, and he looked—hungry, she thought, and maybe just a little pleased with himself. "That was good?"

"For starters." Bianchi curled her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him back down to her and kissing him, slow and relaxed. "Now come here." His belt was a little tricky to manage with one hand, but his fly wasn't. He groaned beautifully when she got her fingers around him, too. He had a nice cock; it was sleek and heavy in her hand, and as she stroked her fingers over the length of it, it drew another groan out of him. She smiled, running her fingers over him, and murmured, "Think you can show me what you've got?"

His response didn't really have words in it, but she didn't mind that. Actions said more, anyway. Dino surged against her, pressing her against the wall, and got his hands under her ass. Bianchi laughed as he lifted her off her feet; she wrapped her legs around her hips, letting the wall take her weight as he pinned her against it. She drew his face back to hers for another kiss, open and dirty, urging him along. Then he froze. "I don't have a—" he began, chagrin filling his voice.

"I've got it, don't worry about it." She tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him close. "Come on, Cavallone, hurry up and fuck me already."

The nice thing about boys was how well they followed instructions like that. Dino groaned something wordless as he slid her panties to the side and pushed in. Bianchi dug her fingers into his shoulders, gasping with the stretch and the slide of his cock as Dino panted against her throat, his breath hot against her skin. "God," he groaned. "God, Bianchi..."

"Yeah, come on." Bianchi gasped, closing her eyes as sensation fired up her spine as he did, rocking into her hard and fast, fucking her right into the wall. He didn't just have a nice cock, he knew what to do with it, too, and held her in place for it as he drove against her, which wasn't exactly an easy thing to do. Bianchi held onto his shoulders, letting him rock against her and panting as pleasure rolled through her, singing along her nerves. He groaned incoherent fragments of her name and the other things boys said when they were caught up in the moment, voice gone husky. Then he got a hand between them and pressed his thumb against her, stroking hard. Bianchi saw stars as she came again, pleasure slamming through her as she groaned. Dino groaned too, straining against her before he went lax, shoulders going loose under her palms.

"Jesus Christ," Bianchi managed when she'd started to catch her breath again, lightheaded with having come twice in quick succession. Dino hummed some sort of agreement against her throat and eased her down as she unhooked her legs from his hips. She held onto him as he did, and not just for the sake of her balance, either—her knees still felt a little weak. "Fucking hell, Cavallone." They were still standing in the damn doorway, for God's sake.

Dino just ran his hands up her sides again and nuzzled her ear. "So about that bed."

"Yeah, why don't you go ahead and show it to me?" she said, and gasped as he cupped her breasts through her top, stroking them like he meant business.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he murmured. Bianchi snorted at him and they staggered away from the door together. Dino was as much of a wreck as she was sure she looked: his shirt was wrinkled and half undone, though she hardly remembered doing that, and he was still hanging out of his slacks. Fortunately for the two of them, the bedroom wasn't too far from the door, and the hotel staff had turned the covers down already. Bianchi sighed when she saw it and broke away from Dino's side, twirling herself around and flopping backwards onto the mattress. She kicked her heels off and stretched out against the sheets, watching Dino's eyes track her every move as she made herself comfortable. He smiled. "I guess you like it?" he asked as he undid his shirt and peeled it off.

Bianchi raised herself up onto her elbows to watch him undress, enjoying the process. He had nearly a full sleeve of ink these days, only half of which were things she recognized the meanings of. The horse was obvious, and so was the Cavallone crest and what she thought was probably the Sky Flame. There were other things that she thought might have been for Namimori—a cherry blossom, something that might have been the sweep of a torii, or was it a bird's wing? But that was the extent of what she recognized on a casual glance. And then, too, there was the rest of him, smoothly muscled and nicely proportional, and very pleasant to look at. "I do," she agreed, finally, when he'd kicked the last of his clothes away and was padding over to the bed.

"Mm, that's good." Dino slid a knee onto the mattress and leaned down to kiss her, slow and intent. Bianchi stroked her tongue against his, satisfied, and dropped her hands to the hem of her top. He pulled away from her mouth, shaking his head, and caught her hands. "No, let me."

Bianchi raised her eyebrows at that, a touch surprised. "Well, if you want." She let go of her top and relaxed against the pillows.

Dino smiled. "I do want." He stretched himself out next to her and stroked his hands over her again, touching her through her top. Bianchi arched into his hands, which were warm, and laughed a little when he kissed her throat and the curve of her neck, easing one of the straps of her top out of his way so he could follow the line of her shoulder with his lips. He was taking his time, too, lips slow as he dragged them across her skin, and paused every so often so he could trace his tongue against her skin, tasting it.

Then he kept going, mouthing her shoulder and running his mouth over her biceps. He paused to map out the scorpion inked there. Bianchi's breath caught as he did, and again when he lapped at the crease of her elbow. A shiver worked itself down her spine. "Cavallone..."

He hummed something and nibbled the inside of her forearm, careful with his teeth as they scraped over her skin. Bianchi watched him kiss the inside of her wrist and then run the point of his tongue over the lines of her palm like he was reading her fortune there before he closed his mouth on her fingers to suck on them.

Bianchi moaned, thrown off-balance by this unexpected attention. "Fuck," she breathed. He glanced at her, eyes gleaming just a bit below the sweep of his lashes, before he let her fingers slip out of his mouth. He reached across her to catch her other hand and repeated the process in reverse. By the time he'd reached her shoulder and was stroking his lips along her collarbone, Bianchi was breathing fast, squirming a little at the way heat was dancing through her. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked, finally, voice hoarse, as he nuzzled her throat and began kissing her chest, following the plunging neckline of her top.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, breath warm against the tops of her breasts.

"If I knew, you think I'd be asking?" she asked, and arched under him as he stroked his lips along the swell of her breasts, stopping just where her neckline fell. "Jesus..."

"Hm." His tone was thoughtful; Bianchi ignored that in favor of the way he'd slipped his hands under her top and was pushing it up.

She lifted her arms and helped him get it over her head, and lost track of everything after that but the wet heat of his mouth when he finally stroked it over her breasts. That was much more like it; she moaned her approval, tension coiling tighter low in her belly with every flick of his tongue against her. "Jesus, yes," she said, lifting her hips pointedly when he slid his palms over her stomach. She growled when he ignored the hint and buried his face in the valley between her breasts instead. "Cavallone...!"

"Mm?" He kissed his way down her torso, tongue sliding along her abdomen and tracing over her muscles, outlining them, ticklish but not. "You said I didn't have to choose."

Bianchi blinked and then shuddered as his point caught up with her. "Oh my holy fuck," she said, a shudder running through her when he nibbled the soft skin just over her hip. "You _meant_ that?"

"You didn't think I did?" he asked, mildly enough except for the glint in his eyes. Bianchi just swore in disbelief as he found her skirt's zip and tugged it down before dragging her skirt and panties down her legs. "I always mean what I say," he added, before running his mouth over her hipbone and sucking hard on it, raising a mark there. "I'm a man of my word."

"Jesus." Bianchi raised herself up onto her elbows to watch him follow her thigh down, smoothing his fingers ahead of his lips and working his way down the lines of long muscles. "Cavallone..." She wouldn't have thought her calf would have been a likely erogenous zone, but a shiver walked up her spine when he nipped at it, teeth scraping over it. He circled his fingers around her ankle and brushed his lips across her instep; it _should_ have been ticklish but wasn't. Bianchi gasped, starting to pant for breath, and decided that this was getting ridiculous. "Well, for God's sake, don't hurry or anything."

"Why would I want to hurry?" Dino stroked his thumb over the inside of her ankle, back and forth, pressing against the tendons that were tired after an evening of dancing in impractical footwear. Bianchi groaned and saw him smile. "If we're both enjoying ourselves, we might as well take our time. Right?"

"I am going to get you for this," Bianchi promised, and shuddered when he caught her other foot to run his thumb over the sole, slow and firm. "Fuck..."

He just chuckled and kissed the inside of her ankle, and then the inside of her knee, tongue soft against the skin there. Bianchi shivered with the way that felt, shockingly intimate, even as he coaxed her knees wide, spreading her open. He took his time working his way up the inside of her thigh, his kisses slow and openmouthed and punctuated with soft bites that made her gasp each time his teeth closed on her skin, till she was aching with how close he was. "Come on, Dino," she breathed as he mouthed the tendon at her hip. "C'mon, you said _everywhere_..." And if he didn't touch her soon she was going to explode out of her skin, but not before she gave him an object lesson on why one did not tease the Poison Scorpion.

"So I did." He looked far too pleased with himself, and yeah, she was really going to have to find some way of getting back at him for that, but—later, because he was spreading her open with his fingers, breath brushing hot against her skin, and then he was _there_.

Bianchi clutched the pillow under her head, twisting her fingers in it, and groaned as her hips lifted up, pressing against the way his mouth worked against her, hot and sure. He made a sound in reply, something pleased, and took her apart just like that, his lips and tongue clever and quick against her after having worked her to a fever pitch. Bianchi panted for breath as sensation curled through her, building on itself. Then Dino slid his fingers into her, stroking them at just the right angle, and she went to pieces, bucking under him and nearly wailing as pleasure swept through her again.

He looked very pleased with himself when Bianchi had collected enough of herself to pay attention to such things again. On the one hand, she felt on principle that a man ought never be allowed to get away with looking that self-satisfied. On the other, her toes were still curled against the sheets, and any man who'd managed to work her through three orgasms had earned some leeway. "Christ," she said, finally, and tangled her fingers in his hair. Dino let her pull him down and made an appreciative sound against her mouth. "You're a menace, you know that?"

"I'm a menace?" He laughed, propping himself up on an elbow and grinning down at her. "Just what do you call yourself, then?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Bianchi said, mustering as much primness as she could under the circumstances. It wasn't much; her mouth kept wanting to curl up at the corners. Amazing things, endorphins.

"Of course you don't." He shook his head, still smiling, and smoothed the hair back from her face. "No idea whatsoever, I'm sure."

"Even if I did—which I don't—you ought to know that a woman would never say." A fundamental truth, that.

Dino snorted. "Of course not." His fingers lingered at her temples, gentle. "In any case, thank you."

Bianchi raised her eyebrows at the earnest note in his voice. "You're thanking me?"

"I am." His smile turned crooked. "Shouldn't I?"

"The gratitude is generally implied after the second orgasm," Bianchi told him, amused. "But you're welcome, I guess." And as far as pillow talk went, this was veering into territory that she wasn't sure she wanted to explore. She considered that and ran her hand down his chest, stroking it over his stomach and curling it around his cock, which was warm under her fingers and already half hard. "Quite welcome," she added.

His groan had a faint note of disbelief to it. "Jesus, woman, are you insatiable?" But his cock twitched in her grip, and he didn't actually sound all that dismayed.

Bianchi smirked at him and kissed him again, sucking on his tongue as she coaxed him hard again, and made an approving sound against his mouth when he found her breasts again. They traded slow kisses until his hips were moving against her grip, slow and relentless, which seemed about right to her. "Come on and fuck me again, Dino," she told him as she drew her hand away from him.

"I _really_ don't think I'm the menace here, I'm just saying," he told her breathlessly as Bianchi tugged him over her, drawing her knees up as his weight settled over her hips.

"You complain this much every time someone asks you to fuck her?" Bianchi asked, amused, wrapping a leg around his hips and sucking in a breath, nerves that were still sensitive firing as he slid against her.

Dino laughed and gave her a rueful look. "Don't you know you're one in a million?" he asked.

He pushed into her before she had time to decipher what on earth he meant by that. She decided not to bother, preferring to sigh his name as he sank into her, the solid heat of him pressing deep as she ran her hands over his chest and shoulders. Dino groaned her name as he began to move, slowly this time, rolling his hips against hers in a steady rhythm. He was easily the most beautiful man she'd ever taken to bed; Bianchi was just as satisfied to wrap her legs around his waist to pull him in close and watch him move over her as she stroked her hands over his back, enjoying the flex of his muscles under her palms and the easy way his cock slid in and out of her. The pleasure of it unspooled through her lazily as she watched him; she thought he might have been watching her in return. His eyes were dark and—gentle, really, and he braced himself on one elbow so he could touch her, palming her breasts and playing with them, running his hand over her ribs and sliding it under her to lift her hips higher. "God," he said, when that made her arch and gasp. "God, you're beautiful. I want to see you—again—"

Bianchi hissed as he shifted his hips and ground against her, the thread of heat winding through her snapping taut as that jolted through her. "Christ—!" He did it again, catching his lip between his teeth with how intent he was. Bianchi groaned at the way he was looking at her. "Fuck, Dino..." The friction of his hips was almost enough, but not quite, so she ran her tongue over her fingers and reached down to stroke herself and help him out. He groaned, watching her, and drove his hips against her, hard and fast. Bianchi gasped as pleasure tore up her spine, fingers moving faster as urgency closed on her and Dino fucked her faster, till her body finally seized on his again. He groaned as she bucked under him, going tense under her hands, face swept open as he came undone. Then he went boneless, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, sagging against her. He was heavy, but Bianchi couldn't find it in herself to care about that. She rested her hands against his back, feeling the little shudders that were still making his muscles jump and quiver under his skin, and let herself float in the haze of the afterglow.

"Jesus, woman." When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled against her shoulder. "I think you broke me."

"Well, I'm not sure _I_ can actually move," she retorted, lazy with satiation.

"Mm." He turned his face and kissed the side of her throat, brushing little kisses against it that preoccupied them both for a while. Then he stirred himself and murmured, "Can I ask you something?"

"It's never a good sign when a man asks you if he can ask a question," Bianchi told the ceiling, and sighed. "Okay, what?"

"Well, if you'd rather I not—"

Bianchi scraped together the wherewithal to pinch him. "You already brought it up. Shoot."

"Okay." But he didn't, not right away. First he rearranged himself, settling himself at her side and gathering her close. Once he'd done that, he settled his fingers in her hair and asked, "Why tonight?"

Bianchi contemplated playing dumb and forcing him to clarify, but—why bother? "No reason not to," she said. "The job's over." The final check was distributed among her accounts and she was a free agent again, for however long that lasted.

Dino raised his head and looked at her, forehead creased. "They turned you loose already?" He looked about as surprised as she'd felt, standing in front of the Ninth and receiving her walking papers.

"Yeah, I figured they'd have me stick around till Tsuna actually takes over, but—" Bianchi managed to roll her shoulders and her eyes, indicating how that'd worked out. "So, yeah. Free agent, and, you know. No reason not to." No more conflicts of interest and no more reason to hold back, and maybe they were right when they said delayed gratification had its merits.

She couldn't make out what he was thinking; he'd put on his business face, neutral and inscrutable, and anything could have been going on behind it. "Well," he said, eventually. "I suppose I'm obliged to Timoteo for not making me wait any longer, then."

It was almost easy to smile at that. "Yeah. Generous of him, huh? I'm not sure it was all him, though. Reborn has said that he was getting tired of all the sexual tension in the air, so maybe it was his idea." Because Reborn could find a way to knock the feet out from under anyone's wounded ego, generally in ten words or less. It was a remarkable gift, really.

"Well, I guess a boss does have to do what he can to keep his favorite hitman happy." Dino's tone was wry, though his eyes were dangerously gentle. Perhaps he guessed that that wasn't safe just now, so he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So. Any plans?"

"Not yet." Something would turn up in its time. Either the Vongola would find something else they wanted her for, or someone else would. She had options.

"Hm." Dino looked briefly thoughtful, and then smiled. "Guess that means you're on vacation."

That was one way of looking at it. Bianchi snorted. "Guess so."

Dino grinned at her. "You know what the best part of being on vacation is, don't you?"

She didn't entirely trust the twinkle in his eyes. Nothing good ever came of it when a man looked that mischievous. "I get the feeling I'm about to find out."

He was still grinning, entirely unaffected by her sarcasm. "It's getting to get laid however much you want."

Bianchi stared at him for a moment and then huffed. " _Boys_ ," she said, giving him a good poke in the ribs when he laughed. "I suppose you're volunteering to help me with that?"

His laughter stopped and he looked down at her. "Of course I am. What do I look like, an idiot?"

His smile was soft around the edges and his eyes were earnest. Bianchi gave him a long look, weighing those things, and then shook her head at him. "You shouldn't leave people openings like that, Cavallone. They're likely to walk right through them."

"That's what they're there for," Dino said, still with that soft little smile.

Bianchi let out a breath. "Oh, shut up and kiss me," she told him.

He did, which was one of the nice things about him. Then he said, against her mouth, "You know the other nice thing about being on vacation? Morning sex."

Bianchi laughed, perhaps in spite of herself, and threaded her fingers into his hair. "Tell me more," she said, because, hell, no one could say she hadn't _earned_ a vacation. And he'd said it himself; he was a man of his word.

She ran her fingers through his hair, listening to him launch a description of all the things they were going to do together, and thought that maybe she was even looking forward to holding him to that. Yeah.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic brought to you by the fact that I was determined to write clubbing-then-sexing fic one way or another, and since Gokudera wasn't obliging me, Bianchi stepped in and volunteered to fill the gap.
> 
> The one where Gokudera and Yamamoto finally _do_ get around to screwing to follow in a couple of days.
> 
> Comments always appreciated!


End file.
